Wonderful Tonight
by TenRose4ever
Summary: On the first anniversary of the instantaneous biological metacrisis that created him, the same day he and Rose had been unceremoniously dumped in Pete's World, the Doctor can think of a few gazillion different ways he would prefer to spend the evening, and the Annual Vitex Gala is not one of them. All he truly wants is to spend a quiet, intimate evening at home alone with Rose.
1. Chapter 1

**Notes**:

This story has been in the works since Christmas and was intended to be finished by Tentoosday in February. LOLOLOLOL So, right on schedule for me, then!

Written for doctorroseprompts's Tentoosday event.

Many thanks to my brilliant betas mrsbertucci and rose_nebula (on AO3) who have taken the time out of their very busy schedules to look this story over for me.

**Chapter 1 Summary**

Feeling out of sorts on the first anniversary of being left in Pete's world with Rose, the Doctor is worried Jackie will blame him if they show up late to the Annual Vitex Gala, and frustrated that Rose isn't ready to leave when he is.

**_It's late in the evening; she's wondering what clothes to wear_**

**_She puts on her make-up and brushes her long blonde hair_**

**_And then she asks me, "Do I look all right?"_**

**_And I say, "Yes, you look wonderful tonight."_**

**-oOo-**

The Doctor stood in the front hall of the little flat, peering at his reflection in the full-length mirror. He ran a tongue over his teeth, and tilting his head from side to side, critically assessed the controlled chaos that was his hair. Giving his fringe a final tweak, he stepped back and swivelled back and forth, his lip curling at the sight of the tuxedo. Well, at least his feet would be comfortable in the black and white Chucks he'd procured specifically for the occasion. After the last party Jackie had hosted, his feet had been aching for days, blistered and cramped by the uncomfortable leather dress shoes she'd insisted he wear.

Nope! Never again!

And especially not tonight of all nights. The day of his… weeeell, his first-ish birthday, he supposed, give or take the millennium's worth of knowledge packed into his brain. He could think of a few gazillion different ways he would have preferred to spend this evening, and the Annual Vitex Gala was not one of them. The only thing that could possibly make it tolerable was the fact that he would be attending said gala with one Rose Tyler by his side.

One Rose Tyler who was distinctly _not_ in the front hall, ready to go…

"Roooo-ooose! We're going to be late!" He sent a little burst of annoyance along their bond.

He was usually the one who kept _her_ waiting, primping his hair to untamed perfection. It was her own fault, really. Afterall, it was she who'd found a jar of Pompogix's Hair Pomade (precisely as brilliant as the stuff he used to use in the Prime Universe). He could hardly be blamed for wanting to make good use of it. You couldn't rush perfection.

Except in Rose's case… she always looked perfect. Therefore, he reckoned, logically, there was no reason for her not to be ready to go.

He shuffled from foot to foot as he peered down the hallway to the bedroom. "C'mon, Rose! You _know_ who Jackie'll blame if we're late. _Me!_ I'm still recovering from the slap she gave me two bodies ago. I don't fancy another one, ta!"

Rose's head popped out from the bedroom doorway, a towel still wrapped around her hair, and her face devoid of make-up. Utterly gorgeous, but definitely not even remotely close to being ready for the gala.

"Blimey, the paps'll have a field day with shots of you in that get-up."

"Yeah, ta for that." Her frosty reply was accompanied by the equivalent of a growl vibrating a warning in his mind and a dangerous little crease forming over the bridge of her nose. She grumbled as she disappeared back into the bedroom, but a few seconds later she called out, "Doctor! I need your help! Can you c'm'ere?"

She seemed a little flustered (as well she should, given the time). He couldn't imagine how he was supposed to help. Nevertheless, he followed the sound of her voice into the bedroom and found her dressed only in knickers, sheer thigh-high stockings, and the towel on her head, poring over three gowns spread out on the bed before her. The sight of her topless might have been more enticing if he hadn't been so frustrated.

"I can't decide which dress to wear."

"What the hell does it matter? You'll look beautiful no matter what. Wear a bin bag if you like. Just pick something and let's get a move on, before Jackie has my head for the centrepiece on the buffet."

She huffed. "So glad I have you, then!"

"Oh, all right," he relented, quite sure nothing good would come of him offering his opinion. He looked carefully at the three options, considering the pros and cons of each. "Wear the green one. It's a festive colour and it's sparkly. I quite like sparkly."

"The green one? Really? Do you think so?" Rose screwed up her face, her nose wrinkling in distaste. "I kinda thought the sparkles were a bit naff, to be honest."

"I _knew_ it!" he growled through gritted teeth. He arched a judgmental eyebrow. "Why did you bother asking me my opinion? Is it some kind of test? A trap? A psychological experiment, perhaps? Hmmm?"

"Blimey, Doctor! Overreacting a bit, yeah?" Rose averted her eyes from him, glancing over the dresses again.

"Nope! I think you'll find my response was perfectly calibrated to serve the situation at hand. You asked me for my input – which I gave quite willingly – and then, without a second's consideration, you rejected my opinion out of hand. How am I _supposed_ to react to that?"

Her hands flew to her waist as she turned to face him, a fierce, wolfish spark in her eyes. Her bare breasts jiggled temptingly, and suddenly any frustration was pushed to the back of his mind and he found himself forced to tamp down his body's responses. Now was not the time for that sort of distraction.

"Oi! Eyes up here!" she snapped with a sharp tweak of their bond. (So, _definitely_ not the time…)

His irritation wriggled back to the forefront, and with his libido conquered, he was able to retrace his earlier train of thought. "It wouldn't matter what dress I'd selected; you'd have had some excuse not to choose it." Oh, it felt quite satisfying to get another dig in.

"That's not true." Hurt transformed Rose's face, and she placed a soft hand on his arm. Her love and sadness flooded through him. "I value your opinion, Doctor. I wouldn't have asked if I didn't."

As her lovely, soft, kissable lower lip wobbled, guilt gushed through him. He sighed. Despite his better judgement, he found himself spouting out more words of gala-gown wisdom. "How about the black one, eh, Rose? Classic! You can never go wrong with a black dress for a formal occasion."

"Hmmmm… but black's so dull. I mean it's a beautiful dress, but it's nearly Christmas, yeah?"

The Doctor gaped at her in stunned silence for a few charged ticks, then he threw his hands in the air. "I give up! I can't win! Tell you what: I'll be waiting in the lounge, planning my funeral. Jackie can throw another party to celebrate the occasion, and you'll be able to wear the black dress to _that."_ He stalked away, ignoring Rose's incoherent squeaks of outrage.

He needed to calm down. He was on edge and was letting little things get to him. He muffled his telepathic connection with Rose. Bombarding one another with negative emotions would be nothing but hurtful. All he had truly wanted was to spend a quiet, intimate evening at home alone with her. This day held special significance for him.

That fact, in and of itself, came as a shock.

Never before had he bothered to observe the linear progression of his life; he'd never given it any thought. Even though he knew time progressed in a distinctly non-linear, wibbly-wobbly fashion, he had to face the fact that _his_ time would now have a distinct end; there would be no more cheating death. Observing the passing years, taking time to reflect on the successes and challenges of the past and his aspirations for the future, had suddenly become something of the utmost importance. He wanted to celebrate the love he and Rose shared and how hard they had both worked over the past year to overcome the strain and rejection of being unceremoniously dumped in Pete's World.

Instead, he once again felt redundant, useless… vulnerable, the unsettling image of Rose walking away from him at Bad Wolf Bay, rejecting him as he tried to win her favour, playing on auto-repeat in his mind.

The last thing he wanted to do was parade around at the Vitex Gala, hobnobbing and exchanging vapid small talk with vacuous socialites and tedious politicians.

He wandered into the kitchen. A nice cuppa was what he needed. The brilliant effects of the superheated infusion of free-radicals and tannins never failed to soothe him. A good, stiff drink would have been marvelous as well, but he'd learned the hard way, this new, more-human body was not very good at regulating the effects of excessive alcohol consumption. He'd be drinking plenty at the gala, later (if they ever got there); he needed to be careful not to overdo it. No, for the time being, tea would be just perfect.

He filled Rose's mug as well, adding the perfect amount of milk _(just a splash)_ and honey _(a little, to cut the bitterness)_. She had her own demons to face on this particular day. Although… come to think of it, she hadn't mentioned it, either the day – his _birthday_ (that hurt a bit), or the demons – being abandoned by the other Doctor and, in turn, abandoning… _him_, the metacrisis (at least, initially). There were more closed doors in her mind than normal, but she hadn't even given any overt hints of any anxiety through their bond. But even if she wasn't worried, he still thought she would probably appreciate the gesture of the warm comforting beverage and it would give him a chance to apologize for his "overreacting", however justified it might have been.

He returned to the bedroom and leaned against the doorjamb, mugs in hand, silently watching Rose as she sat at her little vanity, still in a semi-dressed state (although her hair was loose and dry now), carefully applying the finishing touches to her make-up. Analysing her reflection, she dabbed stray traces of crimson lipstick from the corners of her voluptuous mouth, then smoothed the concealer under her eyes. With a heavy sigh, she picked up her hairbrush, and pulled it through the soft tangles of her long, blonde hair. She'd allowed it to grow over the past year and it now reached almost halfway down her back. The doctor loved the silken feel of it between his fingers, loved the way it tumbled around his face when she rode him to their mutual bliss.

And, oh, that train of thought was no more helpful now than it had been earlier, but unable to resist the temptation, he stepped forward into the room. "Here, let me." He took a gulp from his mug before setting both mugs on the vanity. He plucked the brush from Rose's hand. "Have a cuppa," he offered as he gathered her hair in his hands and brushed out the ends at the back where she couldn't reach.

"Oh, a cuppa would go down a treat. But I can't. Just put on my lippie, yeah."

Rebuffed again, he held his tongue. Rose hadn't meant to be hurtful, but it seemed he just couldn't do anything right. Although, it wasn't like he was doing anything especially wrong... just a bit off-target, perhaps. He decided there wasn't anything to be gained by making a fuss, but he didn't trust his stupid gob to behave. It would be safer to just leave her to her grooming. He set the brush down firmly on the vanity and, pointedly removing her tea mug, moved toward the door.

"Doctor…?"

He turned back toward her, helpless to resist the sway she held over him. She'd always been his weakness… and his strength. She completed him.

"I was hopin' you could braid my hair for me..."

"No doubt I could…" He arched an eyebrow at her.

"_Would_ you? Please? Somethin' nice and soft. You always make it look nice, yeah."

"Will you hurry and get dressed if I do?"

"Oh, we're not that late!"

He set her mug down again. "Not _your_ life on the line, is it?" he snarked, but he was unable to keep a small smile from tugging at his lips.

As he gathered her hair in his hands, parting it with expert strokes of his fingers, she sighed her contentment and met his eyes in the mirror. "I'm sorry, Doctor. I love you," she whispered.

He opened their bond, allowing his love to mingle with hers. "My precious girl, I love you too… but I'd like to be around for many more years to repeat that sentiment." He granted her a teasing frown, and she responded with a cheeky kiss blown at his reflection. When he rolled his eyes, she chuckled and beamed at him, her tongue peeking out at the corner of her smile.

In minutes he had completed styling her hair, a long, soft braid that meandered down the back of her head. "It just needs… Oh, I know! You get your dress on, and I'll be back with the finishing touches in two shakes."

Leaving a bemused Rose in his wake, he rushed out of the bedroom to the kitchen. He had purchased a dozen red roses, intending to present them to her before leaving the flat that evening, but decided they would be put to much better use tucked into her golden plaits. He scrounged in the drawers for the kitchen shears and snipped several of the roses from their stems. He tucked one into the lapel of his jacket (he and Rose would coordinate) and gathered the rest of them up.

When he returned to the bedroom, he was stopped short (nearly spilling the roses from the cradle of his hands) at the sight before him: Rose, resplendent in a deep-red, satin gown. He licked his lips at the sight of her: the v-neck, off-the-shoulder bodice displayed just enough of the soft, round curves of her breasts; and the flowing, floor-length skirt sported a thigh-high slit that exposed the full length of a tawny, toned leg. She was absolutely captivating.

Shaking himself out of his daze, the Doctor swept behind her, beginning his task of nestling the flowers into her tresses. He couldn't resist planting soft kisses to her bare shoulders and neck as he worked, and she encouraged him with soft hums, as each touch of his lips sent a surge of his arousal along their bond. With one last rose tucked into her braids, he placed a final kiss behind her ear and reluctantly pulled away from her.

"All done. Are you ready, then?"

"Almost…" She stepped back to the vanity and picked up the earrings lying there. She turned to him as she set them in her ears, her dress swirling around her. And then she asked him, "Do I look all right?"

"All right?" No words could properly express the vision of loveliness before him; he stammered, trying to find the right way to describe how she affected him, how in awe of her he was. What eventually came out of his stupid gob was the understatement of the year. He only hoped he had projected enough emotion along with his words for her to understand what he had really meant… "My darling, you look wonderful, tonight."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Summary:** At the Gala, the Doctor indulges in some liquid courage and makes up his mind to tell Rose what has been troubling him.

**Notes:** Once again, a multitude of thanks to my brilliant betas, mrsbertucci and rose_nebula! I couldn't have done it without you ladies.

* * *

_We go to a party and everyone turns to see  
This beautiful lady that's walking around with me  
And then she asks me, "Do you feel all right?"  
And I say, "Yes, I feel wonderful tonight"_

-oOo-

As they walked through the grand, double doors of the banquet hall, everyone turned to look. Murmurs and gasps of admiration spun through the crowd as they took in Rose's beauty. Fierce pride welled up inside the Doctor, and he stood tall as he walked by her side. This perfect human was here with _him_, and she worked the room with such grace: the Vitex heiress. It was a side of her he rarely got to see. It didn't matter that _he_ barely got a "how-do-you-do" from any of the guests they paused to chat with; he was basking in Rose's glow as much as any of them. More so. _He_ got to go home with her at the end of the night, an arrangement he hoped would never end, not if he had anything to say about it.

Despite enjoying the relative anonymity of walking in Rose's lovely shadow, the Doctor was unable to avoid Jackie Tyler's scrutiny. He and Rose had somehow managed to make it to the gala well before the dinner was to be served, but that hadn't stopped Jackie from shooting him dirty looks across the room, confirming his suspicions she blamed him for their lack of punctuality. She narrowed her eyes at him, her mascara-clumped gaze never wavering as she leaned to whisper in the ear of the woman standing next to her, gesturing with nods and frowns in his direction. The other woman turned her eyes on him as well, pursing her lips in disapproval. He felt a burn of shame creep up his neck.

Rose tugged him closer by their linked elbows. "Don't pay any attention to her," she whispered. "She'll find another target in a few minutes. Look! There she goes now. Wilkens from Patents is up to his usual tricks."

The Doctor craned his neck to peer over the top of Rose's head and watched in wonderment as the man in question surreptitiously slipped hors d'oeuvres into his pockets. "Blimey! He must have enough packed away to provide lunches for a week!"

"Rumour has it that's his standard M.O." Rose chuckled. "Any function he attends, invited or not! If there's food, he shows up. Everyone's complaining about him."

"Weeell, you can't argue with resourcefulness. I think I quite like this bloke." He smirked when Rose smacked his arm. "Poor sap," he redirected her attention, "Jackie's closing in. She's going to have a field day. I'll have to get him a drink later to thank him for being an unwitting diversion. Speaking of, why don't I get us something from the bar? And you can go and mingle some more, see if you can find us someone actually interesting to talk to." He unlinked their elbows and waggled his eyebrows at her as he backed away in the direction of the bar.

"I'll do my best… That's a hell of a challenge," she rolled her eyes with a bright grin, "but I'll see what I can do. I wish the Torchwood crowd were here… Oh, Doctor," she beckoned him back to her, "just a glass of white for me. You go easy on the drinks, too. I don't want to be carryin' you outta here tonight."

"Oh, my superior physiology can handle a few drinks, Rose." Her arched brow reminded him how untrue that now was, with his current human-influenced body. But after all, it _was_ his "birthday" (not that Ro– …anyone had cared to notice) and if he wanted to indulge… why not? "I think I deserve to let loose a little, yeah?" he sniffed.

"Fine." She rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Don't blame me when Mum comes after you." She shook her head and turned away from him, stopping to speak some dignitary or other… the mayor and her husband, maybe. (Someone dreary, anyway).

The Doctor walked away from Rose making a show of nonchalance as he ambled over to the bar, feeling a bit bitter and out of sorts. "A glass of white, please, erm… Jasmine," he told the woman behind the counter, squinting at the badge she wore to determine her name. "And a couple of shots of scotch… neat."

"What kind, sir? We have–"

"Just something strong and wet, ta."

He hated exchanging barbs with Rose, almost more than having a full-on row. He hated seeing the silent disappointment in her eyes, hated that the true reason for their resentment was concealed behind the tension of the moment, behind shallow words that masked a deeper meaning. He and Rose were experts at not talking about the things that really mattered. And what really mattered – right now – was the significance of this day to _both_ of them, and how they both had been "not talking" about it.

"A bit of liquid courage, comin' up!" Jasmine poured two generous shots of something the colour of Rose's eyes into a lowball.

The significance of the bartender's words wasn't lost on the Doctor. He needed to find the nerve to speak to Rose about what was bothering him. "Coward, that's me, every time." He downed the drink in one big swig, relishing the burn of the alcohol in his throat. Maybe it would loosen his tongue – not that his tongue really needed loosening under normal circumstances. But, weeell… needing to talk to Rose about niggling oversights and hurt feelings… that, _that_ was when his tongue seemed to tie itself in knots.

"Thanks. That's much better." He nodded his appreciation to the bartender and was just pushing off to find Rose – _maybe he could pull her aside to talk before dinner was served_ – when Wilkens came staggering up to the bar, looking very much the worse for wear after his encounter with Jackie.

"You look like you need a drink… Wilkens, is it?"

"That's me. You hit the nail on the head, there, mate!" Wilkins folded himself over the counter of the bar and buried his face in the nest of his arms. He lifted his head up a little to peer at the Doctor. "That woman is a tyrant."

"Jasmine!" the Doctor called. "Another, please, and one for my friend here."

"Aw, thanks, mate!" Wilkens raised his head and sighed as the glass of amber liquid appeared in front of him. He held it up, clinking it against the Doctor's. "Cheers!" He tipped it back, making appreciative coughing and gasping noises as he swallowed.

The Doctor gulped his drink too, a warm buzz developing in his brain.

"That took the edge off," Wilkens spluttered, "but I think I'll need a bit more of that to chase the memory of Jackie Tyler out my head. Hello, there!" he called to Jasmine. "Another two, please!"

"I completely understand, mate. Completely understand."

"Oh, I doubt that…"

"Oi, you just got a tongue-lashing – not that I dismiss your suffering – but she _slapped_ me!"

"Blimey!"

"Yup! See that beautiful woman in the crimson gown… riiiight there?" He picked up the refilled lowball, gestured with it toward Rose, who was gliding with incomparable grace around the room, dazzling dignitaries and serving staff alike.

"Ah… Rose Tyler, ain't she somethin'? Hear she's got 'erself a bloke, now. Old boyfriend from 'er past, from before she stepped forward as Pete Tyler's long, lost daughter. Broke half of Britain's 'earts when that news 'it the red tops."

The Doctor raised his eyebrows in amused satisfaction. The rest of Britain could dream on: she was_ his_… weeell, he was hers, at least. Undoubtedly. Irrevocably.

"Cor, that's one lucky bloke. If it wasn't for the mother, eh? What the hell did you do to earn a slap from that hag?"

The Doctor felt a prickle of resentment, an inexplicable need to protect Jackie that made him squirm uncomfortably. "Oh, I reckon I deserved it. Accidently made her daughter," he nodded his head toward Rose, "break curfew once. Got her home very late. But that was years ago…"

"You! You're not…!?"

The Doctor lifted his glass in the air. "To Rose Tyler!"

"And to you, mate!" Wilkens clinked their glasses together again. "One helluva lucky bloke!"

The Doctor's gaze was fixed on Rose as he tossed back the whiskey. Then he dropped his glass onto the bar, picked up the white wine he'd ordered for Rose, and clapped Wilkens on the back. "Yeah, I really am."

He swaggered away from the astonished man, back to his Rose. There had been something he needed to tell her… something important. But the idea that he was the envy of half of Britain was at the forefront of his scattered thoughts, and the buzz of alcohol circulating through his veins was clouding his memory. And there she was standing before him, turning on that megawatt smile of hers, complete with the tip of her cheeky pink tongue teasing him from between her teeth.

He had to agree with Wilkens, he _was_ one helluva lucky bloke! What a gift he'd been given. What more could he ask for on his birthday?

His _birthday_… it was something about his birthday. A little knot of indignation and tension tightened around his single, throbbing heart.

Rose's face fell, responding to his change of mood, the little crease above her nose appeared again, as she stepped toward him. "Doctor, do you feel all right? You seem a little…" She reached up to cup his cheek, stroking with her thumb and he felt the tension ease, just a little.

Then, she looked into his eyes, scrutinizing. "Jesus," she hissed through clenched teeth, "you've only been gone ten minutes! How much have you had? Shit! You better not let Mum catch you."

His resentment returned full force, and he yanked her hand away from his face. The glass of wine he still held sloshed over his hand with the force of his movement and he thumped it down on the tray of a passing server. "We need to talk!" he blurted, the whiskey working its magic on his tongue.

She rubbed her wrist where he had grabbed her. "Yeah, of course…" The crease over her nose deepened, her brows tightening with hurt. "What's this about?"

Irritated, he wiped his wine-soaked hand on the side of his trousers. "I prefer to discuss it in private!"

"Okay… sure. I don't suppose I need to remind you, _you're_ the one who brought it up in the middle of the Vitex Gala... I guess we could sneak out back through the kitchen. No one would notice."

"Right then," he snatched her hand again, and tugged her behind him. She stumbled along, uttering squeaks of protest.

They hadn't gone far when the background music went still and a voice over the loudspeaker announced that dinner was being served. "Shit!" Rose dug in her heels and refused to go further. "We need to go back."

He rolled his eyes. "Of _course_, we do."

"Sorry, Doctor. But we would be missed, yeah? We'll talk later. I promise. All right? And you need to go easy on the drinks."

"Don't have much of a choice, then, do I?"

She pressed her lips together, her sad eyes meeting his, and offered him her elbow. "C'mon," she sighed, "duty calls."

They wove their way among the large, round tables to the front of the dining room, where a small stage had been set up. "This is us," Rose said as she stopped at a table situated directly next to the stage, where they were to be seated with Jackie and Pete, and a host of other dignitaries, including the President, Harriet Jones. Rose must have seen him eyeing the stage in confusion. "Dad has speeches and presentations and such to do, so this table's handy for that," she explained.

The Doctor sighed. It was shaping up to be a long, miserable evening. Rose turned to him, sensing his thoughts and placed a small hand on each lapel, smoothing and straightening the fabric. "Let's just get through dinner, yeah. Then, the one obligatory dance. _Then,_ we can leg it outta here. Okay?"

He huffed a grudging agreement through his nose.

"Okay? You feelin' alright?"

He scoffed and then he said, sarcasm lacing his words, "Yeah, I feel bloody _wonderful_ tonight."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Summary:** The Doctor and Rose argue at the Vitex Gala.

**Chapter Notes:** My betas are brilliant! What can I say? Thanks so much to Rose_Nebula and mrsbertucci! I love you both!

Written for doctorroseprompts' Tentoosday event.

* * *

**Wonderful Tonight - Chapter 3**

_I feel wonderful because I see_

_The love light in your eyes_

_And the wonder of it all_

_Is that you just don't realize how much I love you_

-oOo-

"Can I speak to you for a moment? Privately?" Rose growled into the Doctor's ear somewhere between the salad and the main course… and interrupting his third glass of merlot.

He grumbled, following her when she stood and made her way to the edge of the room, just behind the little stage. "I find it rather amusing," he snarked, "that when _you_ want to speak in private, it happens immed–"

"Whatever funk you're in," she cut him off, eyes flashing, "snap out of it, yeah! And just so we're clear, you will _not_ ruin Harriet Jones the way you did before. She's the best thing that's happened to Britain in years… _this_ Britain, anyway. She's been President for two terms now, and you know perfectly well, she's tryin' for a third. She's really turnin' things around, makin' a difference. Leave your prejudices in the Prime Universe." Lips pursed, she brushed past him to return to their table, but she suddenly stopped and swung around again, jabbing a furious finger at him. "And watch how much you're drinkin'. You're embarrassin' yourself and Torchwood. We need the backin' from these people to see that Torchwood continues to be able to run. And they know what a big part of Torchwood you are. You have a huge influence on people. I'd kinda like to see that it's a positive one."

He jammed his hands into his pockets, feeling thoroughly chastised. He'd been out of line with Harriet Jones, and he knew it. He secretly admired her policies for environmental stabilization and battling poverty. Like her Prime Universe counterpart, she wasn't afraid to stand up for what she believed in, what she thought was right.

And as for his drinking, he supposed he _had _imbibed a bit too much, but did Rose really think he was an embarrassment? Was she _personally_ embarrassed by him? Would he return home to the flat tonight to find her packing his bags?

"Are you coming?" Rose prompted him tersely as she moved toward their table again, where the main course was being served.

"I'll just…" Fighting down panic at the morose turn of his thoughts, he motioned with a thumb over his shoulder. "I need some air."

"Fine! Don't be long."

He watched her as she stalked away (how many times had he been wrenched awake from nightmares of her walking away?) waiting until she was seated before he moved off in the other direction, toward the huge veranda that led into the back gardens. Once outside he gulped down the cold December air. He leaned against the brick wall and ran his hands over his face. His life was falling apart, unravelling before him. What had happened to the man who had walked so proudly beside his lovely Rose only an hour ago? It seemed like he'd been in a dream world, too good for the likes of him. Now he was wide awake, and he realized he'd allowed his bitterness to come between them. Instead of talking to Rose days ago, he'd let his hurt fester and grow.

A huge sob burst out of him, and he buried his face in his hands again.

"Hey," a firm hand clapped him on the shoulder.

He looked up to find Pete's concerned face looking into his.

"I know that look, mate," Pete continued. "That's the look of despair that only dealing with a Prentice woman can bring."

The Doctor gave a rueful chuckle. "I've always thought of them as _Tyler_ women, but I suppose… one and the same."

Pete chuckled too. "Now, I'm no expert, but I'd like to think I've learned from my past mistakes. I've been given a second chance and there's no way I'm going to muck it up. What I've learned is you just need to talk to them, tell them how you're feeling, and be bloody-well willing to hear them out, too. They need (and _deserve_) to know they have a voice."

The Doctor ran a hand through his hair. "It always comes down to that with us. Always has. Never saying enough… or sometimes saying too much of the wrong thing, or the right thing in the wrong way. Leaving the most important things until… weeell… until it's too late… And it's usually me, not properly listening to her and realizing later she had it right all along…

"I can't lose her, Pete!"

"Mate, you're not going to lose her. She's never givin' you up. You didn't see her those few years when she was tryin' to get back to you, developin' the Dimension Cannon. Determination and strength like I've never seen. Her life had been turned inside-out and she just got on with it… at least after the first few months of wallowing. Jackie's just the same."

"But, today…"

"Today's a difficult day, I know."

"You know?"

"Anniversaries of any kind bring their own kind of emotions to the table."

The Doctor nodded. "Yup, you can say that again. She's been so closed off. I suppose I haven't been much better. But she's just never acknowledged it. And it's my _birthday_. Not that I really care about those things. Never have before…"

"Yeah, but you're not immortal anymore, are you? It matters now."

The Doctor was shocked by Pete's insight. He scrubbed at the back of his neck and dropped his gaze, scuffing the ground with his Chucks. "Yeah…"

They were silent for a long minute, before a horrific thought flashed through his mind. "Oh! _Oh!_ You don't think she thinks I resent that she…" he paced back and forth along the wall, furious fingers pulling through his hair, "how she…"

"How she treated you when you first got here? I imagine she does a bit (it's only been a year), though she'd never admit it. They're stubborn, the Prentice women."

He stopped pacing to stare at Pete. "But I love her! She's everything to me! _Everything!_ I could never… I don't think she realizes how much I love her."

"Don't tell _me_, mate." Pete chuckled again. "Go on back in. She's worried about you; I can tell. If you hurry, you'll be just in time for the awards and pudding."

The Doctor heaved a sigh, slowly releasing his breath past his lips. He ruffled his hair, hoping it still had some semblance of its usual artful disarray.

"Go on," Pete urged. "I'll be along in a mo. It's that time of night when I need to make speeches. I'll take a little longer out here to collect my thoughts."

The Doctor realized Pete was offering him this moment on his own, and he appreciated it more that he could ever put into words. His heart swelled at how Pete and Jackie (for all that she properly frightened him sometimes) had taken him into their family and made him feel welcome when Rose had been unable to do the same. They had given him a place to belong, a home, even if it came with obligations like dull-as-dishwater galas and Sunday teas and the like.

He offered his hand to Pete, who took it in both of his and gave it a warm shake. "Go. Before she comes lookin' for you."

With a deep breath, he slipped through the wide patio doors and back inside. The sound of animated chatter and clinking dishes filled his ears as he re-entered the banquet hall and crept up behind the stage. He stole a few moments to watch Rose before he ventured back into the dining room. Her lovely head, covered in roses and plaits, was bowed, and she listlessly swirled her food around on her plate with her fork. When a server came, she asked him to remove the plate, leaving the meal mostly uneaten. He fought down the desire, the need, to rush out and take her in his arms and hold her tight against his body, to reassure her how much her loved her, adored her, and just wanted her to be happy, even if that meant him leaving because he embarrassed her. He would do anything if it would only make her smile again.

Finally, gathering himself, he approached her and reached out to her over their bond with a gentle, loving touch.

She whirled around on her chair, eyes bright with unshed tears as they met his, her love for him shining out of them and surging over their bond.

He paused a moment, allowing her love to fill him before he moved toward her. When he reached her and touched the bare expanse of her back, he nearly swooned with the heightened rush of their combined emotions through the contact. He leaned over her shoulder to press a kiss to her cheek from behind, and as he straightened, he whispered into her ear, "Rose Tyler, I love you."

Once he was seated beside her, she grappled for his hand below the tablecloth, squeezing it tightly in her own. _I love you… so much, my Doctor_. The words rushed into his mind, a flurry of syllables amid a disarray of emotion.

Jackie watched them from across the table, shaking her head in disbelief, and – if he wasn't mistaken – motherly affection. She muttered something to Harriet Jones, who glanced toward them, nodding and smiling in delight. Something about the exchange warmed the Doctor, centring him with that sense of belonging and family he craved, and he turned to Rose and kissed her plaited crown.

As they were waiting for pudding to be served, Pete strode back into the room and took the stage. It was time for the speeches he had mentioned earlier: company announcements, pep talks, and awards. The Doctor tuned him out for the most part, focussing instead on the hand he held in his and the love that filled his heart and mind. Peaceful and drowsy, he became lost in feelings of love and contentment.

He was rapidly drawn out of his thoughts (not dreams… he had most definitely _not_ fallen asleep!) when Rose slipped her hand from his and jostled him as she stood. He scrambled to his feet as well, reeling with the loss of her touch.

"Did I wake you?" she teased, grinning at him. "Sit." She touched his shoulder with a gentle pressure. "Dad's just called me and mum up for the final presentation. The Employee of the Year. He likes to make a big deal of it and bring me and mum on stage with him. I won't be long."

"Promise?" As he sat again, the Doctor once more felt vulnerable without Rose's hand in his. The distance between them made him aware of how much they still had left unsaid, how much they needed to discuss, how much that discussion was likely to dredge up insecurities and animosity and hurt.

She kissed his cheek. "Promise." And as she walked away from him to the stage to join her parents, she touched his mind, wrapping her love around his worries, calming them.

The Employee of the Year was a woman in Research and Development who had created a new, better-tasting formula for the Vitex drinks _(not that _that_ was such a great challenge_, the Doctor thought in disgust. _Just about any change would be an improvement.)_ Her award was a hefty bonus – Jackie presented her with the honorary cheque – and a standing ovation from all in the room. Once the winner was seated again, all smiles, Pete announced his plans for the New Year, plans to give back to all his employees. He intended to roll out all-expenses-paid retreats for everyone and their families to lovely tropical vistas, where they would be able to relax while developing interpersonal relations and working skills. The Doctor joined the enthusiastic applause for Pete's generosity (one of the reasons he was such a successful and respected businessman) and thought of Wilkens. This was that bloke's dream come true.

"Thank-you, thank-you! Thank-you, all," Pete raised his hands for order to be restored to the excited crowd before him. "We have one final announcement to make, and then pudding and dancing and celebrating Team Vitex!"

Another great cheer went up, louder than before, and it took another few minutes for Pete to restore order.

"I give you my lovely wife, Jackie."

Jackie warily approached the microphone. For all her ability to natter on about nothing, standing in front of a room full of people was a different matter, entirely.

"Oh, just pretend you're blathering into your mobile," the Doctor quipped, loudly enough for most of the room to hear, "and you'll be right in your element." He beamed up at her and the room burst into laughter.

"Oh, hush you," Jackie chuckled along with everyone else, "or you'll get such a smack. Don't think I wouldn't… _Honestly!_

"Well, I suppose I should get on with it then, eh," she was speaking with more confidence now that the tension was broken, "since you've gone and made a spectacle of yourself anyway, ya plum. So, last year, we were thrilled to welcome back into our family, this silly bloke, right here."

The Doctor sat up, shocked, at Jackie's words. Rose grinned at him from the stage, eyes laughing.

"Oh, so now you're speechless," Jackie continued. "Never have I ever seen the like… Anyroad, this man, the Doctor, travelled with our Rose, here, for a few years before we found her again. They fell in love."

The Doctor swallowed hard, his eyes never straying from Rose's beaming face.

Jackie related the story of his and Rose's past that had been approved for the press. "… but while they were investigating an active nest of Cybermen, he was trapped, and they were separated. Rose managed to escape, but she thought the Doctor was lost to her forever. She was devastated and came home to us, something we will always be grateful for, even if it came at the cost of such heartache."

Rose stepped up beside her mum and comforted her with a gentle rub of her shoulder.

"But then, on this very day last year, on a mission for Torchwood, Rose found the Doctor again and together they defeated more of the baddies. The rest is history, yeah. She brought him home with her, and he quickly became a part of our family."

There was a great round of applause from everyone in the audience, and as he watched Jackie surreptitiously wipe a tear from her eye, the Doctor's single heart swelled with love for the family – _his_ family – standing before him.

Once the excitement and chatter had died down, Jackie gathered herself together and started speaking again. "Turns out, that day was doubly special because it also happened to be the Doctor's birthday. But I have to admit, his return to Rose was a gift to all of us.

"So, today, I want to ask you all to join me in wishing Doctor James Noble, a very happy 34th birthday! Happy Birthday, Doctor! Come on everybody! Sing along! Don't be shy!"

The Doctor had listened as Jackie related the tale of his return, shocked. All these last few days, he'd thought no one had remembered – or cared, if he was being honest – about his birthday. And while he'd known Rose would have remembered (how could she ever forget?) he'd just assumed she hadn't wanted to speak of it only because it dredged up too many bad memories. Never in his wildest imaginings had he considered she might be concealing a birthday surprise for him, as well.

He felt like a fool, a complete fool.

Now as he stood listening to Jackie's shrill voice reverberating over the PA system as she led the crowd in a boisterous rendition of _Happy Birthday_, all he felt was love.

"… _Happy Birthday, dear Doctor! Happy Birthday to you!_ C'mon up here, sweetheart. C'mon!"

He stood stupidly by his chair, his heart thundering and his normally orderly mind jangling with a riot of emotion. Rose rushed down to the table, grabbed him by the hand, and dragged him onto the stage. He stumbled after her, still stunned to be honoured in front of so many people.

A gasp from the audience drew everyone's attention to a massive, TARDIS-blue cake that was wheeled out beside him, decorated with stars and blazing with candles.

"Pudding!" Pete announced to the audience, who burst into laughter.

"Thirty-four candles, this year, Doctor." Jackie stepped up behind him, challenge in her voice. "Do you think you can manage all on your own?"

Jackie's teasing yanked him out of his stupor, his mind quickly regaining its orderly splendor and sharp wit. "Oh, yes! Superior respiratory system!" He patted his chest with a smug smile.

"More like a big windbag–"

"But…" the Doctor cut off Jackie's remark, "… it's always better with two." He tugged Rose closer to him and looked deep into her shining eyes. "Together, love?"

"Always."

As the audience "aw-ed" at the sweet, romantic exchange, the Doctor and Rose faced the cake. "Make a wish, love," the Doctor whispered in Rose's ear. One…" the Doctor began the count.

"Two…" Rose continued. "You too…"

"Three!" they shouted in unison, each taking a deep breath and blowing out every candle, laughing along with the cheering audience.

As the cake was wheeled away to be cut, and Pete announced that the dance floor was open, Rose led the Doctor back to their table. "What did you wish for?"

"Oh, that would be telling. I can't have something going wrong with my wish." His wish had been a simple one: a lifetime of love spent with Rose Tyler by his side. All of time and space would be wonderful, and he couldn't wait to travel the stars again, but he'd give it all up in an instant if it meant Rose couldn't share it with him.

Rose's love poured over their bond. _Forever… _the word filled his mind. And in that instant, he knew their wishes had been one and the same.

About half an hour later, he was shoving the last lump of his third piece of cake into his mouth, when Rose stood up beside him, hand elegantly extended toward him. "Care to dance?"

He swiped icing off his lips with his tongue. Crumbs sprayed from his mouth as he spoke. "Well I've got the moves, but I wouldn't like to boast…" He took her hand in his, and they both laughed at the memory of their first dance together as they swept out onto the dance floor.

The dance was a slow one, a good way to ease into the festivities. They moved as one, hands and bodies pressed together, their breaths mingling in soft kisses, as they swayed in time to the music.

"How are ya feelin' now? All right?" Rose bussed against his ear.

"Brilliant! Wonderful! Molto bene! Why?"

She ducked her head. "Well, you wanted to talk, yeah… erm… earlier. We never got a chance."

His feet faltered and they stopped moving, just clinging to one another. "Wasn't important." _(Coward! _his inner voice chastised.)

Her eyes lifted to meet his, damp and glistening. "Sure seemed important to you at the time. Doctor?"

"Weeell, I suppose… I suppose I was worried. We haven't been talking much." He'd offered her an opening and when her nose scrunched in confusion, he prattled on. "About today. Not the gala. I mean the _day_. The great, vast, elephant-in-the-room day."

She bit her lip. "Your birthday."

"It's a bit of a rubbish day for a birthday. I could have picked any day. And I picked _that_ one."

"Well, it _was_ your birthday, technically."

"Suppose. I never thought it would have any significance for me. It never did before. Now it does, and I wish I hadn't picked that day when there were 364 significantly better days to choose from," he grumbled, "days that weren't one of the worst days of my life."

Rose's face crumpled at his words and she pushed away from him, fleeing the dance floor. (His stupid gob!) He rushed after her, catching her just outside the ladies'. "Wait! Rose, wait. I didn't mean it like that… Weeell, I did," he admitted as she fixed him with an expression of tearful scorn, "but not entirely the way it sounds."

"What exactly did you mean then, hmm?"

He chose his words carefully. "I don't like that my birthday is a day you'll always associate with him… us… _him_ leaving you on that blasted beach, to be stuck with a… weeell, with _me_. And then, I thought we'd got past all that, but you've never mentioned it. Not _once_. My _birthday,_ Rose! I just wanted to celebrate it with you, the anniversary of the beginning of our lives together. You and me, together. That means everything to me."

Rose placed a warm hand on his chest, her voice trembling when she spoke. "It means everything to me too. It's just so hard, yeah, to think about how I… how I treated you. You nearly di– I nearly lost you, forever."

He cupped her cheek. "You didn't lose me. I'm right here. I'll always be right here. I suppose I didn't do a very good job of showing you that the last few days."

She brought her hand to her mouth, nibbling the side of her thumb. "Neither did I. I was so scared it would dredge up old memories… I couldn't even bring myself to buy you a gift. I was terrified you wouldn't want me anymore."

"Rose Tyler, I love you, and I will _always_ want you. I don't need a gift. The greatest gift I could ever have is seeing the love light in your eyes when you look at me, feeling it in our bond."

She flung her arms around his neck, pulling him against her, and he responded in kind, pulling her even further in, his fingers skating over the soft skin of her bare back, tracing the outline of her dress. After a moment of relishing being close to her, he drew back to smile down into her eyes. "The wonder of it all," he fondly shook his head, "is that you still don't realize just how much I love you. I always have. I was a goner from the time you said, 'There's me.' Probably even before that, if I'm being honest."

"You forgive me then? For everything?"

"Nothing to forgive."

"Yeah, after all, I suppose I _did_ keep Mum's surprise birthday announcement a secret." She ducked her head, hiding the smile that lit up her face. "That must be worth something."

"Oh, I'd say you smashed it." He chuckled, and tucked a finger under her chin, lifting her face to his. "Now," he declared, planting a kiss on her forehead and gesturing back to the dance floor where a more up-tempo song was currently thumping away, "I think it's time to celebrate, and I believe I haven't really had a chance to show you my moves properly, tonight. Care to join me?"

She beamed at him. "Lead the way, Birthday Boy."

He grinned back at her, feeling freer and more alive than he had in days. "Allons-y!"


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Summary:** Finally on the same page as Rose, the Doctor intends to have an intimate celebration with her, but when do things ever go as planned?

**Notes: **My betas were wonderful, as they always are. I made some changes after their last look through. Hope you like them, mrsbertucci and Rose_Nebula. My eternal thanks.

* * *

_It's time to go home now and I've got an aching head  
So I give her the car keys and she helps me to bed  
And then I tell her, as I turn out the light  
I say, "My darling, you were wonderful tonight  
Oh my darling, you were wonderful tonight_

-oOo-

The sound and lights throbbed around them, any semblance of music reduced to the primal bass rhythms that resonated through the Doctor's body and pounded against his eardrums.

He couldn't care less.

All of his considerable mind was trained on the sensation of Rose's lovely bum rutting against the eager bulge forming in the front of his trousers. His hands splayed over her heaving ribs, supporting her, securing her against him, but still allowing her enough freedom of movement to keep doing exactly what she was doing.

He'd known Rose was no stranger to clubbing. She'd often gone with Keisha and Shareen back when she lived on the Estate, long before he'd whisked her away to explore all of time and space, but he'd rarely had the good fortune of seeing her in action, and he'd never expected to be dancing with her like this, himself. He'd certainly never expected to be dancing with her like this at a _Vitex_ function, of all places.

Regardless, it was brilliant. The air between them was thick with their pheromones and raw sexuality. Finally, after days of skirting around one another, not communicating properly, they were in sync, literally and figuratively dancing to the same beat. The exquisite agony of their shared, unrelieved desire thrummed through him with every pulse of the music, every heartbeat, every stroke of their bond. His fingers brushed the underside of her breasts through the silky fabric of her dress, and she pressed back into him a little harder. It would be so easy to pull her dress to one side, surreptitiously free his cock, and slip inside her warm welcoming heat. No one would ever know.

Rose purred into his thoughts, encouraging, daring him. She wanted this as much as he did. She reached back and unzipped him as he dropped a hand to stroke her thigh under the slit of her dress. He gasped as her clever hand caressed him through his pants in time with the music. Dropping his head to her bare shoulder, he kissed and sucked her warm skin. He breathed in her scent, all craving and lust, and moved his fingers up, tracing the damp outline of her knickers. At her breathy groan of encouragement, barely audible over the thumping music, he slipped a finger underneath the fabric, drawing it to the side, exposing her warm, wet curls to his touch. Running his hand over her welcoming heat, he raised his head, eyes fluttering shut as he pressed his lips to her temple, the white-hot pleasure arcing over their bond nearly overwhelming him.

He was vaguely aware of the heavy bass beat matching the rhythm of their pumping hands, of the back Rose's plaited head resting against his shoulder, of her groans of pleasure rushing to his groin. He breathed in her scent, and desperate to watch her face as he brought her over the edge, he opened his eyes. Over the top of Rose's blonde head, the swaying dancers around him came into focus through the flickering lights.

And then the world went silent around him.

There, on the periphery of the dance floor stood Jackie Tyler, hands on her hips, lips pressed into a scowl… and her eyes trained directly on _him_.

His shock snapped across their bond and he and Rose both yelped at the same time, their bodies flying apart. He rapidly wiped his Rose-wet hand on his tux (lucky tux!) and she zipped up his trousers. She looked up at him, eyes sparkling with joy and mischief.

They both glanced over their shoulders to where Jackie was still shooting daggers at them, then he grabbed Rose's hand. "Run!"

With unsuppressed laughter, they legged it off the dance floor, heading directly away from Jackie, and didn't stop until they had ducked, out of sight, behind a pillar.

"Do you think we're safe?"

"Not for long… Mum's like a bloodhound."

He shuddered. "Do you think she'll slap me."

"Both of us I expect!" Rose beamed up at him. She teased him with her little pink tongue swiping over her lips. "Soooo worth it!"

"Oh, yes!"

She held his gaze with hooded eyes and ran a fingertip from his temple, over his sideburn, and across his cheek to his lips. "What d'ya say we pick up where we left off… someplace else?"

"Oh, yes! Maybe somewhere without the migraine-inducing music."

"Someplace a bit more… private, yeah?"

"Home?"

"Home."

"Allons-y!" He wiggled his fingers and with their hands swinging between them, they set off in a beeline for the coat check and exit.

"And where do you two think you're going?" Jackie's sharp tones brought them to a sudden halt only steps away from freedom.

Rose opened her mouth to speak but was cut off as Jackie barged on, "Makin' a right spectacle of yourselves! Honestly! Don't think I'm the only one who noticed what you were up to with your wandering hands! It's _this_ one's first gala," she jabbed her thumb in the Doctor's direction, and leveled her sharpest glare at Rose, "but you, little madam, you should know…"

The Doctor lost track of Jackie's tirade as a heavy hand clapped him on the shoulder. "Happy Birthday, mate!"

He turned to find Wilkens grinning at him. "Erm… thanks."

Wilkens peered over the Doctor's shoulder, gesturing pointedly at Jackie with his brows. "Looks like you could use another drink, mate! What'd'ya say?"

"Right… weeell…"

"Right, the old ball and chain, yeah?" Wilkens nodded knowingly.

"She's not…" the Doctor sputtered. "Never! She's… she's–"

Wilkens cut him off, addressing Rose. "You don't mind, Miss Tyler? A few celebratory drinks?"

The Doctor felt the loving warmth of his bond with Rose flare in his mind. _I don't mind if you would like to go, love. It would give you a chance to escape Mum…_

Aloud she spoke to Wilkens directly. "Of course not! Off you go."

The Doctor didn't hesitate. Sending his eternal gratitude to Rose (along with several frankly filthy suggestions about how he planned to make it up to her at home later) he skipped away with Wilkens toward the bar.

"Oi!" Jackie carped, from behind Rose.

"Mum…" he heard Rose's placating tones fading into the chatter around him and smiled. He would most certainly have to make it up to her in the most delightful ways…

-oOo-

Rose met him at the bar 102 minutes later… or maybe it was 112 minutes… 122? Something with a two, and definitely over 100... weeell, maybe… Clearly, his time senses were muddled by the alcohol he'd been consuming. He knew he shouldn't have imbibed quite so much, but it seemed churlish to turn down the offers of birthday drinks from his new Vitex friends and buying them rounds in return. They were good blokes, this lot. Maybe not the sharpest tools in the shed, but decent chaps, nonetheless.

"Doctor," Rose's voice trickled into his thoughts, "time to go home, now."

He swung around to look at her, and his head swam, nausea churning up from his gut. He widened his eyes as he tried to focus. "Urrrghh… my head aches. But on the plus side," he vaguely registered that his voice was slurred, "there are so many more of you to look at. It's like looking through a kaleidoscope. The most beautiful kaleidoscope… Rose-coloured kaleidoscope. Urrrghh, my head, it's killing me. Did I already mention that?"

Rose sighed, and the many images of her swirling before his eyes indulged him with fond smiles. "C'mon, love," she pressed a kiss to his cheek and steadied him through their bond, and oh, that felt so good, "let's get you outta here, yeah." She took his hand in hers and pulled him from the barstool where he'd been sitting.

"Sorry boys. Gotta go!" He staggered onto his feet, and his stomach lurched painfully again, as he waved a heavy arm toward his new mates. "Secret Torchwood mission with my Rose! I have plans for her tonight…" His words were met with inebriated whoops of encouragement.

Rose squeaked, and her hand clenched sharply around his. "Doctor!"

"Oh, yes!" He was delighted by her enthusiasm. (That _was_ enthusiasm, wasn't it? Weeell, of course it was. After all, she knew, first-hand… first-tongue, first-cock… just how impressive he was.) "I have plans for you, Rose Tyler." He tried to waggle his eyebrows at her, but they refused, and just as well, the pain in his temples would never have allowed it anyway. He winced, swaying where he stood.

"Well, we'll see…" Rose quirked a dubious eyebrow at him. "That _mission_ may need to be put on hold until you sober up, yeah? Here, love, lean on me."

He dimly registered Rose lifting his arm across her shoulders to support him. "Nonsense, Rose," he announced around his wobbling steps as they started slowly toward to cloak room, "I am going… to make you come… so hard… so bloody hard, Rose… you will see stars…"

"Shhhhhush! Keep your voice down!"

"I mean, eventually… we'll get there… with the TARDIS… but for the time being… I'll fuck you into orbit… And that's just with my tongue!"

"Doctor! Shush!" Rose's admonishment was drowned out by the hoots and whistles from his new friends. She tried to speed up their pace.

"…my tongue… your lovely cunt… mblmblbml–" He licked the hand Rose had slapped over his mouth.

"Yuck!" Her hand disappeared. "Blimey! Shut up, ya plonker!" she hissed.

"But I love your cunt… Come to think of it…" He noted they'd stopped walking. (Funny how the room was still moving so much.) Rose was thrusting something into his hands… "Oh, my coat. Now, where was I? Oh, yes, your cunt. Don't you just love that word, Rose?" They were walking again, Rose still shushing at him, her mind conveying exasperation. (But why?) "Eh, Rose? Cunt! And fuck! I want to fuck your cunt. Ah, the language of sex is–"

"Shut-up!" Rose cut him off (rather loudly), the sound drilling into his skull.

He bent over double with the pain in his head. Despair welled up inside him. Rose was angry with him. Nausea churned his stomach once more.

"Sorry, love. Didn't mean to shout." She stroked his arm. (Oooh, that was nice.) "They've gone to get the car. We'll be on our way home, soon."

Home sounded like a brilliant idea. He didn't like it here. The lights were lurid, too bright. The smell of petrol fumes permeated the air. The pounding bass of the music had followed them outside. His stomach heaved.

_NO! No, no, no, no, no!_

Glancing around himself (quite a feat considering the way everything was all wobbly and out of focus) he spotted a topiary in a large pot by the side of the door. Breaking away from Rose's steadying hand, he lurched toward it and unceremoniously vomited the contents of his roiling guts into the pot.

-oOo-

As his head hit his pillow, he vaguely remembered Rose folding him into the seat of their car. Beyond that was a void, a dark terrible void, the Howling… Hell! Emptiness! Rose was gone!

He jolted off the pillow, eyes flying wide, as panic surged through him.

Then the feather-light touches of Rose's shining mind filled the darkness in his, driving it back. Her gentle fingers stroked his aching temples and eased him back onto his pillow.

She began to undo the buttons of his shirt, and he stopped her, his hand closing over his. Sadness filled every crevice of his wretched, single heart and he despaired the shortcomings of his stupid, humanish body. "I had such plans for you tonight…"

"So I heard. (Me and the rest of the world.)"

"… but I don't think I can, Rose. Not now. I've ruined every–"

"Shush…" she placed a finger against his lips, "I'm not expectin' anything like that."

"You're not?"

"No," she gently shook her head. "Let's just get you ready for bed. You can't sleep in this tux, yeah?"

He didn't protest (he couldn't find the strength) as she took off his clothes, piece by piece, until he was left in just his pants (his lovely banana-print, TARDIS-blue boxers.) Then she led him to the loo to brush his teeth. She sponged his pale face with a cool cloth as he sipped the cup of strong tea she had made especially for him.

Soon, with the healing effects of the free-radicals and tannins rushing through his veins, he was back in bed and drifting to sleep under the soft duvet. He was pulled awake when Rose joined him, snuggling against his body, resting her head over his heart. Peace and contentment flooded through him. What had he done to deserve a life spent with this beautiful soul, his precious girl? He met her gaze and reached back to turn off the light. "I love you. Sorry, I've been such a git."

"My git." She pressed a kiss to his chest. "I'm sorry, too. I've been a bit of a cow. It was just today… you know… It's hard, yeah?"

He smiled and stroked her hair, plaits gone, brushed and silky-smooth beneath his touch. "It's all past and done. And tonight…" he allowed the remnants of the alcohol to fuel his stupid gob, "…my Rose, my darling precious Rose… you were wonderful tonight." As he wrapped his arms around her, drawing her tighter against the length of his body, he opened a private door in his mind and began to plan.

He'd need a ring… a ring of infinity knots (_"…a promise of forever…"_) and scattered with little diamonds ("…_the stars he'd take her to visit again someday…"_) and a TARDIS-blue sapphire. Yes, that was right, a sapphire. He would ask her soon, very soon – at Christmas – to bond with him in the human way. That would make her so happy. He could wish for nothing more than her happiness and to have a life like this, with her nestled next to him, forever.

His eyes fluttered shut again, and just before he drifted off, he pressed his lips to her forehead, surrounded her with his love, and murmured, "Oh, yes, my darling, you were wonderful tonight."


End file.
